


8 hr 20 min

by sseagully



Category: Miraculous Ladybug
Genre: Accidental Cuddling, Adrinette | Adrien Agreste/Marinette Dupain-Cheng, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Bonding, Developing Relationship, F/M, Fluff, Friendship/Love, Long Plane Ride, MLB NY Special Spoilers, SO MUCH FLUFF, Slow Burn, Spoilers, blanket sharing, but they're close, hand holding, no identity reveal
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-28
Updated: 2020-09-28
Packaged: 2021-03-07 17:21:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,633
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26701336
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sseagully/pseuds/sseagully
Summary: Mme. Mendeleiev does not allow Marinette to change her seat on the plane.Or how those 8 hours and 20 minutes could have gone.-MLB NYC Special Episode Spoilers!
Relationships: Adrien Agreste | Chat Noir/Marinette Dupain-Cheng | Ladybug
Comments: 86
Kudos: 492





	8 hr 20 min

**Author's Note:**

> A fluffy little one-shot of what could have been (though don't get me wrong, I thoroughly enjoyed the special as is, this is me just being super self-indulgent.)
> 
> Could be alternatively titled: How Many Romantic Tropes Can I Squeeze Into One Plane Ride?
> 
> Quick heads up: I played a little loose with time in general, as well as the events of the flight.
> 
> WARNING: spoilers for the NYC Special episode ahead!

**.: 0 hours :.**

“Are you sure you’re going to be okay, Marinette?” Adrien asks with a furrowed brow as Marinette sinks into her seat with a grimace. “I — maybe we could ask someone else to switch seats with you when Mme. Mendeleiev isn’t paying attention?”

“No,” Marinette replies, closing her eyes and trying to calm the frantic pacing of her heart inside her chest. “I’ve caused enough trouble already, I think. I-I’m sorry, Adrien.”

“Hm? What are you sorry about?” 

_I’m sorry I can’t act like a normal person around you_ , Marinette screams internally. _I’m sorry I keep running away, I’m sorry I can’t bring myself to face you. And I’m sorry I can’t bring myself to face the fact that I still — I still..._

“Just — you know, wired being — no, weird being, I MEAN. BEING WEIRD,” is what comes out instead.

Adrien chuckles. “It’s okay. I bet it’s nerves, right?” He jerks a thumb back over to his bodyguard, who is sitting back with headphones on, eyes closed and posture tense. “The Gorilla is pretty nervous about flying too. If you want, I can ask him what app he’s listening to.”

“Sank woo. Tank goo!” _Pull yourself together, girl,_ her inner Alya voice shouts at her. Marinette takes a deep calming breath and tries to let the air filter through her mouth down into her lungs, the motion expanding through her center like her _maman_ once taught her. 

Feeling a little bit more grounded, she tries again. “T-thank you, Adrien. But I think I’m okay now.”

“Good!” he says, then lays down his arm on the armrest between them, palm facing upwards. He wiggles his fingers. “Do you maybe need a hand to hold for take off? I don’t mind, I promise.”

“Eep!” All inklings of calm go straight out the window. Her jaw opens almost instinctively, ready for her normal outpouring of nerves and denials. But before the first syllable can drop, she chances a glance at his face where he is — 

Smiling.

Adrien smiles at her, a smile so pure, it’s a gift without any strings or conditions attached. A gesture that shoots an arrow straight at her heart and makes her experience guilt and greed in equal measure for all the feelings it invokes in her. 

How can she resist that smile?

Gulping visibly, she extends her trembling hand to meet his. The tips of her fingers land first, a tentative, delicate touch that she’s almost sure she’s imagined. Then more firmly, her hand sinks down to lay on his, palm against palm, fingers finding the gaps between his naturally. Without hesitation, he tightens his warm grip once they’re connected, engulfing her hand in his larger one and kicking her pulse into overtime.

“Don’t worry, I won’t let go,” Adrien promises.

_I wish you wouldn’t_ , Marinette thinks wistfully, barely able to hear herself think over the traitorous staccato of her heart. 

**.: 1 hour :.**

Marinette stares at her right hand, unable to pull her gaze away from it. Though it looks the same as always, she can still feel the phantom sensation of Adrien’s wrapped around it, changing it irreversibly in some momentous manner. 

She knows that these aren’t the thoughts of a friend, that she is losing precious progress she can’t actually afford to spare, but despite the dread and panic pooling together in the depths of her chest, she can’t seem to get her brain to stop thinking about it.

It’s just...in that moment, they had fit together so nicely...it really felt like their bodies knew something important that their brains are still struggling to figure out. 

Shaking her head at her ridiculous, wishful thinking, Marinette pulls out her phone and starts looking for her ‘GET OVER HIM ALREADY!!!’ playlist she created a few weeks back. She’s in dire need of some musical empowerment right now.

_Please Clara, don’t fail me now._

**.: 2 hours :.**

A hesitant tap on her shoulder brings Marinette out of her music haze, prompting her to tug her headphones out of her ears. Clara Nightingale’s song blasts out as an aggressive, tinny sound as the pop star wails about saying goodbye to her former partner; Marinette scrambles to pull her phone out from where it’s fallen between the arm rest and her seat cushion to pause the album.

“Y-yes?” she asks, voice loud and shrill despite her best efforts to stay calm.

“I’m sorry to interrupt, Marinette,” Adrien says, chagrined. “But the food cart is passing by. I wasn’t sure if you wanted something to eat or drink…?”

Marinette contemplates the state of her stomach. On the one hand, having last eaten hours ago at the bakery, she’s probably overdue for a snack at this point. On the other, the swarm of butterflies fluttering inside the cage of her ribs makes her feel quite full indeed, casting doubt that she’ll be able to eat anything at all so long as she’s sitting in this seat.

Seeming to sense her indecision, Adrien leans forward — leans _over_ her — to speak to the flight attendant. Marinette’s hands quickly push underneath her thighs, using the full weight of her body to keep herself from doing anything foolish, like sliding her hands into his thick, fluffy hair, or latching them around his neck to pull him closer. The smell of his simple shampoo mixed with his gently spiced deodorant leaves her stunned and red-faced, sitting so stiffly that the smallest breeze could probably snap her spine in two. 

“Can I get a water with lime, please?” Adrien asks politely. He casts a quick surreptitious look back at the zoned-out form of the Gorilla, before turning back and requesting: “And a bag of chips?”

Marinette stares. Adrien catches her gaze and gives a playful wink. “Please don’t tell?”

“I-I won’t,” she whispers, feeling absurdly happy at being in on the secret, even something so inconsequential. It brings her right back to laying on the rough, hard stone of the fountain in the park near her house, inches away from Adrien who was laying in a similar fetal position. They had shared the same space back then, and nearly the same breath too; they’d been pressed so close together, she remembers she could nearly count the individual eyelashes framing his forest green eyes. 

The flight attendant busies herself with Adrien’s order, first preparing his drink, then reaching down low into the bottom compartment to grab his food.

Something in that moment urges Marinette to speak up, helps her words push past the heart lodged in her throat. “Could I, um, also get a bag of pretzels? And some w-water?”

Within minutes, both of their snack bags are passed over and the attendant has moved on. Marinette takes a split second to grab her tiny cup of water and chug it in one go, letting the cool liquid slide down her throat and take some of the heat away from her face, before prying open her pretzels. The bag splits neatly at the seams, nearly falling apart at her enthusiastic tug. Thankfully, all the pretzels stay in the confines of the plastic wrapping. She nudges them gently in Adrien’s direction.

“What…?”

“Here. I-I figured this way you could enjoy more than one,” Marinette says, staring steadfastly down into her lap.

There’s a small pause before she hears the crinkle of plastic. When she finally gathers her courage to look up, Adrien is chewing happily on a pretzel, face blissful. Once done, he gives her a sly grin and another wink.

“So you’re not just a witness anymore — you’re actively aiding and abetting me,” he says with a chuckle.

“Well, I helped get you on this plane,” Marinette shoots back with a confidence she didn’t know she had up until this very second. “Might as well help you get the most out of it.”

Adrien’s expression softens then, eyes widening and mouth parting slightly. “You did. You are.”

Heat prickles the apples of her cheeks, a surefire sign she is blushing again. She ducks her head down, trying to hide how affected she is by such a simple response. 

“Marinette?” A gentle touch nudges at the underside of her jaw. Adrien’s fingers slowly but firmly guide her head up and slowly turn it just the tiniest bit so their gazes can connect. 

“I didn’t get to say this earlier,” Adrien continues, tone heartfelt. “But I just really wanted to thank you for what you did. Talking to my father, convincing him to let me come on this trip. It means so much that you were willing to do that for me. You’re truly the kindest person I’ve ever met.”

“You’re welcome,” Marinette says in a whisper, heart swelling at the compliment. His fingers slip back a little, settling in the curve of her jaw where her pulse sits. She leans into his touch. 

Suddenly, Adrien jolts and pulls back his hand with a sheepish grin. Though she can’t be certain in the dim light of the plane, she thinks that he may be blushing the tiniest bit. 

_Argh, no, stop your wishful thinking, Marinette! He’s your_ friend _, remember? Just a friend._

She offers him a wonky smile, then reaches desperately for her music playlist once again.

**.: 3 hours :.**

“Ahh, my phone is close to dying,” Marinette mutters, disconnecting her headphones and sliding them into her purse, careful to avoid a sleeping Tikki. Out of the corner of her eye, she notices Adrien perk up slightly, hurriedly placing his book to the side, but she tries to pay him no mind.

Standing from her seat, she stretches up to access the overhead cabinet. Her charger is in the side pocket of her suitcase, but it’s unfortunately not on the side facing the opening. 

“Do you need help, Marinette?”

“No, no, no, I’m good! Ahahaha,” she laughs nervously, the denial coming out in a rush, almost on instinct. Pushing all her weight onto her tip-toes, she grabs for her suitcase, but barely manages to take hold of it all, due to her small stature and how far back it lies in the cabinet. There’s very little leverage for her to pull it out by herself; unless she grows a foot in the next thirty seconds or so, it will be impossible for her to accomplish her goal on her own.

“Actually,” Marinette sighs sullenly. “I’m sorry, Adrien, I-I think I _do_ need your help. Can you please get my suitcase out so I can get my charger?”

“Of course!” He leaps to his feet.

With Adrien’s help, they retrieve her charger smoothly and quickly. He hefts her suitcase back up into the overhead bin while Marinette does her best to tear her eyes away from the definition of his biceps as he maneuvers the weight. “There, all set.”

“Thanks.”

She gestures for him to enter their row first. As he climbs in, his body brushes briefly against hers, causing every cell in her body to buzz and come to life, almost as if struck by lightning.

“So…” Adrien says once she’s seated, his voice a messy mix of nerves and eagerness, “I was wondering...while your phone is charging...do you maybe want to play a game with me? I have a deck of cards in my backpack — I read online that they’re good entertainment to bring on a flight with friends!”

The level of his excitement throws her off for a moment, a little unexpected, but then slowly, understanding starts to sink in, especially at his last words. It wasn’t all that long ago that Adrien had told her that she was the first friend he’d ever made, but somehow, the full impact of that statement has never hit her until just now. 

She wonders, suddenly, what must his life have been like, without anyone his age to hang out with or just do normal kids’ stuff with. Sure, he had Chloé as a friend when he was younger, but it isn’t like Chloé is the poster child for ‘normal’ either. On top of that, Marinette doubts they would have had many playdates together, considering the little she knows about both of their parents. Just how much have these two missed out on over the years — things and experiences that Marinette has probably taken for granted?

Clara’s hit song _My Love is True, But Not For You_ tells her that if she wants to let her doomed love go, she needs to cut all ties, draw firm boundaries, and not overcommit to a relationship that won’t give back what she needs. But right now, in the face of Adrien’s innocent earnestness, Marinette finds she is incapable of distancing herself from him, even in the interest of self-preservation.

_Sorry, Clara_ , Marinette thinks mournfully. _It was good advice. Maybe next time._

Unaware of her mental detour, Adrien continues on. “There’s this game I saw in a TV show once called Slapjack, and I just always thought it looked fun. I’ve wanted to give it a try for a long time. Have you ever played it, Marinette?”

“Ah, I think so?” It sounds familiar enough, but not something that she’s played recently. “I don’t really remember all the rules though.”

Adrien’s eyes light up. “No worries, I’ll pull them up!” He unlocks his phone screen and, to her surprise, immediately frowns.

“Adrien? What’s wrong?” Marinette takes a curious peek at his screen, expecting a stern text from his father or Nathalie, perhaps. But all she can see is one of the major Parisian news sites. A quick, sharp stab of fear lodges itself into her spine, forcing her upright and nearly out of her seat. “I-is something happening back home? An akuma attack or a Sentimonster?”

She presses a trembling hand to her purse where the cat toy sits, suddenly terrified she’s missed Chat Noir’s call. 

“Oh no, no, nothing’s going on.” Adrien rushes to comfort her. He passes over his phone, swiping through the site’s innocuous headlines. “See? I’m sorry, I just — when I saw the website, I realized I had forgotten…I mean, I thought there might have been — but seriously, it’s all fine!”

“Oh,” Marinette says, forcing herself to resume breathing. Paris is okay. Chat is okay. Marinette is okay. The fear and anxiety begin to drain out of her system, leaving her feeling both exhausted and wired at the same time. “Yeah, um, no worries. S-so about the game?”

“R-right! Let me see here...”

Huddled over his phone, they pore over the rules together. Switching her focus to something simple but concrete helps Marinette to relax that last little bit, bringing her back into the moment. Adrien proudly produces a brand new deck of cards from his backpack, one that still has the plastic sealed around the box. Her heart aches a bit at the proof that Adrien has had no one to play with, but she tries not to let it show on her face.

“So the goal of the game is to take all the cards,” Adrien says thoughtfully as he attempts to shuffle. “We each take turns to lay down a card from our hand and if it’s a Jack, we ‘slap’ the pile. Whoever slaps first gets to keep everything on the table.”

“That sounds simple enough. Let’s give it a practice run, maybe?”

“Good idea.”

They start off slowly, each of them playing their cards with care as they search for the prized Jack face card. After a dozen turns between the two of them, the first Jack appears, and both of them move to slap the cards. 

“Ouch!”

“What? What happened?”

Marinette rubs her stinging palm. “Not sure, I — oh. I think I hit your ring.” 

“M-my ring?” As if on cue, they both look down at his right ring finger. The thick silver band glints dully in the low lighting; the very sight of it sends a pang of familiarity through Marinette, making her tilt her head in thought.

Curious. Did Adrien _always_ wear that ring…?

“Should I take it off?” Adrien asks, brow furrowed, obviously conflicted. It must be really important to him, Marinette realizes, perhaps an expensive Agreste Fashion design or a gift from his mother. 

“Maybe just turn it so it faces the other way? The band itself is probably fine, it’s the prongs that kind of stabbed me,” Marinette says. 

Looking relieved, Adrien nods and twists the ring so that the face of it is now on the underside of his finger. “Let me know if it still hurts though,” he tells her seriously. “I...don’t like taking this ring off, but I don’t want you to get hurt either, Marinette.”

“I’m sure it’ll be fine,” Marinette says with a smile, privately determined not to make a fuss even if it still pricks her. She really can’t stand the thought of seeing him so distressed again. “Now, let’s play. I’ll definitely get the next Jack, you can count on it.”

“Is that so? Then bring it on!”

**.: 4 hours :.**

Their competition ends after the fifth or sixth round, hands sore and eyes tired. They squabble about who actually won, though neither of them can remember their exact count. In the end, they decide to call it a tie.

“Since we tied, that means I still technically won. I want my prize,” Adrien insists with a big yawn, triggering one in Marinette. “One New York souvenir hand-picked by Marinette Dupain-Cheng.”

“Right back at you then. You owe me an Adrien Agreste souvenir,” Marinette says, grinning, and they shake on it.

Yawning again, Adrien blinks sleepily. “We should probably get some rest now, otherwise we’ll be totally exhausted on our first day.”

“Mm, true. Good idea,” Marinette agrees as she swipes the airplane blanket from her seat pocket and tears open the packaging.

Adrien follows suit, lurching forward to check his own pocket and batting clumsily at the magazines and safety handouts crammed there. “Huh? Where’s mine?” 

“D-do you not have one?” Marinette asks. She pulls her feet up onto her seat and casts the blanket over her knees, watching the fabric puddle around her small form. 

“Seems like they missed my seat.” Adrien sits back and — for lack of a better word — pouts. 

Marinette pokes her head out into the aisle, hoping to catch the attention of one of the stewardesses, but it’s late and all of the staff seem to be off in the back, taking a well-deserved break.

“Don’t worry about calling someone over just for this, Marinette,” Adrien reassures her. “It’s totally fine, I’ll just sleep without.”

Before she’s able to swallow the words back down, Marinette blurts out, “We could share mine.”

“Really?” he asks. “You wouldn’t mind?”

“Sure, it’s no big deal,” Marinette lies. She shifts the blanket awkwardly across the armrest, leaving both of them half-covered. 

“It may not be big enough for both of us,” Adrien points out kindly and tries to push the fabric back over to Marinette. “Trust me, I’m okay without it! You should take it."

“No, well...I think...maybe if we were...um, closer?” Marinette mumbles. The last bit of her fast-fading courage allows her to push up the armrest and scoot towards the newly available space in the center. She holds up a corner of the cover in invitation, inwardly screaming as Adrien moves over to join her. 

“Thanks, Marinette,” he whispers, now able to tug the blanket across his broad chest and over his lap. “This is a lot better.”

Unable to speak for fear of what embarrassing words might come out, Marinette simply nods in return. Closing her eyes, the gentle hum of the plane engine stands out weirdly in the otherwise silent atmosphere, a spot of white noise that is hard to ignore. Marinette latches onto that sound, trying desperately to focus on the engine and nothing else. It is suddenly a matter of the utmost importance that she keeps herself distracted, that she does not fall prey to the dangerous allure of...other things. 

(Other things being, in no particular order: the warmth of the blanket superseded by the warmth of Adrien’s body sitting right next to hers, no armrest or space in between them. The gentle press of their shoulders touching, the lines of their thighs meeting, the clumsy nudging of their hands beneath the blanket. The soft sound of Adrien breathing, the tempo of his breaths slowing down steadily as he falls into sleep —) 

**.: 5 hours :.**

_Chat Noir stands in front of her, proffering a yellow rose and a playful grin. In that moment, Ladybug feels intense fondness and wistfulness, a curious mix of emotion that belongs solely to him. She reaches out to take the flower._

_The moment her fingers touch the stem and his fall away, the rose’s yellow color fades to a light pink, then deepens into a dark but vibrant red. Mouth falling open to chastise him for his trick, Marinette looks up and sees bright green eyes and a wide, cat-like grin, a boy dressed in a black t-shirt with a white button-up, designer jeans, and bright orange sneakers._

_She’s not shocked to see him, she realizes in a dreamy haze. Rather, it feels like coming home._

_He gives her a playful wink. “What took you so long, milady?”_

**.: 6 hours :.**

Awareness returns to Marinette in dribs and drabs. Her tiredness from earlier is diminished somewhat, seemingly appeased by the small nap she took. She yawns and stretches slightly in her seat, before returning to the position she woke up in: arms wrapped around Adrien’s bicep, both of her knees hooked over his lap, head tucked into the perfect space between his chin and his collarbone.

In response to her movement, Adrien rustles in half wakefulness himself. He nuzzles gently into her hair while his right hand squeezes her elbow fondly, holding her in place.

“Mm,” Adrien sighs contentedly, and Marinette agrees.

This was so nice. If only she could always wake up to cuddling with Adrien, she would probably never complain about waking up ever again.

Wait.

Waking up with — 

With Adrien?!

Freezing in shock, Marinette’s eyes pop open and her entire posture goes stiff. She forces every quivering muscle in her body to remain completely still, fighting against the strong urge to yank herself away. Instead, she slowly begins to reclaim her limbs, first sliding her legs off his, then retracting her arms.

She casts one last look at his face and in that moment, almost swears she can see slivers of iridescent green peeking through dark lashes. 

_Is he awake?_ she wonders, pulse skyrocketing, before furiously shaking her head.

No, no way. He couldn’t be, otherwise he would have pulled away too, would have woken her up, would have said _something_ — 

Overheated and overwhelmed, Marinette slips out from under the blanket and walks in a daze to the airplane restroom. On her way back, she stops by a window, taking a peek out into the pitch-black sky. 

A glimmer of gold catches her attention, and she watches raptly as that tiny bit of light starts to grow and expand in a multitude of warm hues. It’s as if the haphazard splashes of color represent her anxiety; she watches as the reds, oranges, and yellows mix together and slowly bleed out from the horizon, spilling across the dark blue canvas of early morning, and suddenly feels infinitely better. 

“It’s beautiful, isn’t it?” Adrien says quietly as he walks up beside her. She jumps slightly, but thankfully the panic from before has pretty much faded completely. His presence comforts and soothes her, in a way she can’t quite put words to but values beyond measure. 

Standing side by side, they breathe in tandem and watch the beginnings of a magnificent sunrise.

**.: 7 hours :.**

“I can _not_ believe you’ve never watched _Tangled_ before,” Marinette fumes, pressing the touch-keys on her seat’s TV a little too harshly. “You’ve been robbed, Agreste. Robbed!”

“Mhm.” At his lackluster response, Marinette turns a fierce eye on her seatmate, ready to hammer her point home till he truly understands just how terrible this gap in his education is. 

“Hey, don’t look at me like that!” Adrien says with a grin, hands raised in surrender. “I’m in total agreement. I’ve been woefully deprived of many traditional childhood rites of passage. You’ll just have to help me recover lost ground.”

“Oh, I will, you better believe it. In fact, we’re starting right now. Grab your headphones, you’re in for a magical ride,” Marinette promises, reaching over him to navigate his own screen to the same movie selection to match her own. When she pulls back, she catches a glimpse of his face: flushed, starry-eyed, and overall, looking quite similar in disposition to the Disney Princess they are about to watch. 

Honestly, if the glass slipper fits…

Marinette tries to settle into her seat, folding and refolding her body in a few different configurations. After nearly eight hours sitting, the once comfortable cushion feels nearly unbearable, like her tailbone is resting directly on stone. Caught up in her own huffing and wiggling, it admittedly takes her a few seconds to notice Adrien’s left arm is up and extended between them in a silent offer so tempting, it almost hurts. 

She darts a quick glance up at his face, but thankfully, he’s staring firmly at his screen where Rapunzel is singing about the freedom she longs for. It makes it easier somehow to slide beneath his hold, like maybe it’s all just occurring by accident or happenstance. 

Marinette holds her breath until she feels his arm settle tentatively around her; he pulls her closer and she can breathe again. 

**.: 8 hours :.**

A quiet crackle fills the plane as the lead flight attendant starts her announcement. “We will soon be starting our descent. Please put all tray-tables up and place your seats back into the upright position. Seatbelts are now required.”

“Are you still nervous, Marinette?” Adrien asks quietly as he buckles himself in and tucks up his tray table. “D-did you want to hold hands again?”

He offers up his hand on the armrest. Far from the polite offer at the start of the flight, Adrien watches eagerly for her response, giving her what she can only dub as ‘pleading kitten-eyes.’ 

( _Isn’t the saying usually ‘puppy-dog eyes,'_ she wonders to herself idly. But no, kitten-eyes fits much, much better for some curious reason. The sensation of standing at a precipice, tottering back and forth over the edge, suddenly hits her in that moment — though she can’t quite put her finger on why.) 

“I-I’m okay, I’m not scared of the landing,” Marinette admits, wanting to be honest. Adrien’s expression flickers briefly with disappointment. 

She slides her hand onto his, before he can take it away.

“But I’d like to hold hands anyway,” she confesses, scared to say it any louder than a whisper.

Adrien blinks in surprise, once, twice, then smiles helplessly, like he can’t do anything but. It takes over his entire face, changes the shape of his eyes, relaxes his brow. It transforms him from Adrien the perfect model to Adrien the boy who laughed at her once for closing an umbrella on herself. 

“Me too,” he whispers back, interlocking their fingers in the tightest grip possible, leaving her little wiggle-room to pull back or run away. But that’s okay. Marinette hasn’t wanted to run from him in hours. Can’t imagine ever wanting to run from him again, no matter what might happen.

Hope is a wild thing that beats in her chest. This spark that she feels, that she could never quite extinguish despite her best efforts to move on — suddenly it seems like maybe, possibly she isn’t the only one experiencing it.

Marinette cannot wait to see what the rest of this week holds.

**Author's Note:**

> ...and then the plane nearly crashes, thanks Techno-Pirate.
> 
> I really hope you enjoyed the fic, it ended up way longer than it probably should have (whoops).
> 
> If you have any interest in discussing the special or the show in general with other MLB writers, artists, readers, etc. -- please join us over at the [Miraculous Fanworks Discord server.](https://discord.gg/mlfanworks) I'd love to see you there!


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